Of Conversations, Chocolates and Hats
by Arcadya
Summary: A one-shot look into a small period of time with our team. Conversations that run their course, Chocolates that instigate, repair, distract, and Hats... L/VP friendship, requisite Lisbon/Jane, dose of Cho, Risgby's around and about.


_Hi-ho!_

_This is a one-shot borne out of a conversation I had with SpaceAnJL. Oh, and not a part of my other story, so they're not together here or anything...  
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_It is different, I might even go so far as to say strange. It's not a crack-fic, so don't fret. But it lends itself to the abnormal. I hope you enjoy it as much as I enjoyed envisioning it._

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Rigsby couldn't believe it when he'd been told.

Coldhand Corner didn't have a pizza shop. Apparently those 'damn Ei-tal-yans' weren't welcome in the Corner. (Quietly, neither was Cho). Rigsby had been astounded, he'd never heard of any place not having the makings of pizza. He hadn't known how to rectify the situation either, which was how they'd ended up at one of the wood themed pubs in the pokey town. Also, there were really only three options to choose from, Roast Dinner, Soup, and something that looked suspiciously like Broiled Rabbit with limpy, deranged carrots. The team avoided that choice. It might have been kitten for all they knew.

The low music was casting a nice sheen to the lulls in conversation. They were hungry so eating was their first priority. They were situated around one of the bigger tables toward the side of the establishment. By the time they were half way through their meal, the entire town seemed to have congregated in the pub too.

The music picked up and a few of the younger women threw flirting looks at Rigsby and Jane. Cho too, but only when the other older inhabitants of the Corner weren't looking. Thankfully the younger members of the community weren't as racially scared as their elders. Van Pelt had shuffled closer to Lisbon whispering quietly. Their secretive grins and light chuckles drawing Jane's attention first.

"What are you two lovely women discussing so quietly?" He asked, drawing the men's attention.

Lisbon answered with a smile, while Van Pelt followed her bosses lead.

"Nothing." They chimed after sending each other knowing glances.

Jane spared a glance around the pub. Drinking in the interested looks from both males and females. He noticed one particularly loud group of young women. They seemed to be gearing up for a confrontation run. Probably to Rigsby first, possibly himself. He threw another look Van Pelt's way; she was much easier to read than Lisbon – too much practice.

"Which one do you think it is?" He asked them.

Van Pelt gave a startled gasp; berating herself for thinking they could outwit the Mentalist among them.

Lisbon merely smirked before leaning forward the tap Rigsby's arm. "Definitely the redhead for you tonight."

He made a surprised grunting noise, looking first toward Van Pelt before realizing Lisbon had meant the redhead over by the bar. The Red-Head in question, giggled flirtatiously with her female wing-man, flicked her ruffled décolletage flauntingly and smiled in his direction. A man in the corner frowned.

"Damn." Van Pelt laughed, feigning disappointment, "I was so sure it was going to be Shorty."

"Naw," Jane inserted, "She's more interested in Cho."

"Not that she can do anything about it." Cho said darkly; the latent racism of the town making the entire case hard to bear.

Lisbon gave a small smile in condolence.

"If you could choose someone, who would you?" Jane asked suddenly. Directing his question firstly to Cho, but encompassing the whole group.

"You're the psychic you tell me." Cho responded, jokingly.

Jane made a show of reaching his fingers toward his temples. Humming slightly he dropped his head to his chest, breathed deeply. Waited for Lisbon to stop laughing, and answered "The dark haired woman in the corner, by the lovely painting of the sheep."

Lovely being the euphemism for painstakingly droll.

Each of them surreptitiously glancing toward the corner indicated.

"How do you do that?" Van Pelt inquired, once Cho's reaction gave them their answer.

"It's my inborn talent." He replied oafishly.

"Do Rigsby." Van Pelt ordered.

Rigsby shot him a warning plea… anyone but Van Pelt.

Jane nodded reassuringly, tonight was about relaxing and having fun, not poking a sore spot revolving around a relationship that was stalled before it couldn't properly be worked out.

He did his 'accessing the mental powers' bit again. This time Lisbon didn't laugh, merely swatted his arm to get him to hurry up. They weren't audience flunkies, they knew how he operated.

"The woman who just walked in." Jane announced. The women turned to look while the men had the perfect view. She was tall, dressed conservatively, jeans and a checkered shirt. She looked like she'd just come off a hiking trip. She wasn't a redhead though, she was a blond. Cho and Van Pelt merely nodded in amusement. Lisbon alone saw the resemblance to Van Pelt. She sent an inquiring look to Jane. Who smiled in return.

Shaking her head, Lisbon glanced around the establishment. Searching for who Jane might be interested in.

"What about you Jane?" Cho asked. "Who do you like the look of?"

Jane pondered the question thoughtfully, sending a contemplating look across the pub. He didn't answer for a time.

Lisbon jumped in. "That woman over there, with the long curly black hair." She was as close to exotic as Coldhand Corner got.

"For Jane?" Van Pelt asked astonished.

"No. For me." She replied.

The men turned to her astonished.

"What? I can't appreciate a beautiful woman?" She refused to respond to the looks the men were giving her. "Besides, aren't we just choosing?" Advocating all the innocence she still possessed.

Van Pelt leaned out of her chair a bit, trying to get a better look."Yeah, she's pretty. But I don't know… that girl over there's pretty nice too."

Rigsby made a sort of strangled sound.

"Which one?" Lisbon asked.

"The one with the streaks."

"Oh yeah. Pretty. In a…"

"Yeah, in a buttony way… Pixie-ish."

"Exactly."

Cho shook his head. He was lost. Rigsby's eyes were glazed over and Jane looked amused. "Lisbon." He said softly.

Van Pelt, Cho and Rigsby were all still cataloging the women Jane and Lisbon had pointed out. Trying to decide why one woman was more attractive than another, in essence why they were attracted to different people.

"Did you decide yet Jane?" Lisbon suddenly asked, thinking maybe Jane had called her name but wasn't quite sure. The music was picking up and the amount of people arriving had added extra noise to the room.

"Nah, no one." He said, waving a hand like none of the women in the room were worthy of his attention. Although Cho noticed the way his eyes lingered across Lisbon's figure for a fraction too long to be platonic.

Another song erupted from the back of the pub, a dancing, Western/Techno song, if such a thing were possible. Van Pelt looked longingly at the cramped dance floor. It wasn't much, but it seemed to do the locals proud. The lurker from the corner approached Van Pelt, to Jane – completely obvious in his attempt to cause jealousy with the woman previously hair flirting with Rigsby. He asked her to dance, she agreed with a slight glance to Lisbon and Rigsby; seeing no outwardly signs of deterrence.

Soon after, Red-Head at the Bar drank up some courage, she too approached their table. A flirty lean and another glance toward Lurker and Van Pelt – just to make sure her man was still interested – before asking Rigsby to dance too. He agreed quickly.

Cho sighed, "I'm going to head back to our motel." He said, fishing into his pants pocket to find his wallet.

"I'm sorry." Lisbon said, her face speaking far more clearly than words could explain. She hadn't liked the undercurrents in this town either.

"We'll walk back with you." Jane announced. Lisbon let the talking on her behalf slide. She probably wouldn't have stayed much longer regardless. Jane waved a waitress over, paid for the meals and the drinks while Lisbon darted onto the dance floor to signal to Van Pelt and Rigsby. They nodded their understanding, and stayed where they were. It's not like she expected them to scamper back simply because half the team were leaving. Officially the case was closed, and the only reason they were still in town was because it was entirely too long of a drive back home. They'd make the exhausting trip tomorrow.

Cho, Lisbon and Jane walked down the cool streets in quiet solitude; the town seemed to go into a micro-freeze once the sun disappeared. The stars were blinking brightly, the soft cloud cover speckled the sky and the moon was a pleasant shine upon the earth. All three thought it was pleasant. Cho left Lisbon and Jane in the foyer, he noticed Jane was gearing up to be annoying and he didn't want to hang around and get caught in the cross-fire.

Jane escorted Lisbon to her hotel door. It looked like she was going to say something, but couldn't or didn't know how to get the words out. Floundering for a couple of seconds; "Thanks Jane," She muttered, before opening her door and slipping inside.

It was closer to one when Van Pelt and Rigsby made it back in. Jane hoped they'd realize how much strain they were putting on Cho; he was the one that would have to drive them back – for the most part. But Wayne and Grace knew better than to drink so much it would impede their driving ability. He shrugged his shoulders in the empty room, eh, what did it matter. He'd be in the car with Lisbon.

He wasn't sleeping. He just could not get comfortable in this particular hotel. Too red. Normally it wouldn't matter but sometimes, if he wasn't completely in control, red got to him. Made him nervous, caused more nightmares than usual. He didn't sleep a lot anyway, preferred the steady hum of the office, the sounds and smells of the team and Lisbon.

So he was awake when he heard someone walking down the corridor, down to the little lobby and the small, almost defunct vending machine situated there. He peeked a head out of his door. Gauging by the steady, sure steps that it was either Cho or Lisbon. Van Pelt seemed to scurry if she moved around at night, probably one of those left over childhood fears of monsters under the bed. A fear that turned into monsters around the corner; Grace could never be too careful wandering around at night in a strange hotel. So she tiptoed and scurried. Probably took her weapon with her too.

Rigsby blundered down hallways. Quietly; if that were possible. Not that any member of the team left their rooms all that often, but since Jane rarely slept while on a case, he was usually awake to listen out for their movements.

Cho was silent, stealthy, careful. He didn't go out of his way not to make noise, but he was naturally soundless. Even in the daytime. On reflection, it wasn't him that had been walking to the foyer. It was Lisbon.

He wandered down the corridor too. In search of the Lisbon. He was right, as was customary, she was standing vigil in front of the vending machine. Contemplating the chocolate and nut bars with an avid eye.

"Take the chocolate bar." He intoned, "Expiration dates are longer." Not that he could see that, in fact, only the day before he'd seen the vending machine restocker come in. The nut bars hadn't needed refilling, only the chocolate bars, and if that trend were the norm who knew how long those nutty sticks of confection had been there.

She threw him a teasing look before agreeing with his assessment. She punched a few buttons; waited for the curls to twirl, bent suddenly sticking her hand through the little flap and retrieved her prize. She didn't wait for him to make a move or say anything more, simply moved off into the lobby.

Thankfully the hotel they'd booked was the 'best' one in town. Which meant – not a whole lot – but it came with a cute, kitschy lobby. It had a fire, which was lit and the embers were still quite hot. It would be out by morning. While Lisbon cuddled into one of the cushions, Jane added a small plank of wood into the fire. It looked like half a white picket fence post. He grinned at that.

"What some?" Lisbon asked softly. Holding out a small piece of her chocolate bar to him. When he shook his head in refusal, she shrugged and popped it into her mouth.

She savored it. Eyes closing, tongue poking out to wet her lips. Jane diverted his eyes. Lisbon at night made the lines they created blur.

"So… who's your man-crush Jane?" She asked suddenly, surprising him.

He shot her the most interesting look. She couldn't hold back the delighted grin. It wasn't often she got to shock him.

Once he saw that grin, he knew he was in trouble. If she threw that at him more than once a blue moon, well, she wouldn't be single for much longer…

"Hmm, that's a tough one." He said although he had no objection to the line of questioning. While he wasn't that way inclined, he could appreciate a good looking man; much as he appreciated a good looking woman without wanted to jump her bones. He deliberated quite carefully. It wouldn't do to dismiss Lisbon's interest. It was rare that he got her to relax; she was always looking for his ulterior motive. But this time she had started the line of inquiry. He didn't want to mess up this chance to see what she was like, under Agent Lisbon. He got glimpses, but nothing too revealing.

"Don't hurt yourself there." She said softly, letting a breathy giggle out.

"Maybe you should start us off." He replied, he wasn't quite sure the direction she wanted to go in.

"Hmm, George Clooney is always a staple." She smirked.

"George Clooney. When did this addiction begin?" He inquired, adopting a doctorly tone.

"ER. Definitely ER… All that white coated wildness with no real settling down potential, and then the one 'right' woman got him," She sighed in memory, "you?"

He watched her interestedly, her eyes almost unfocused, he wanted to see that again. "I can't say anything definitively on Mr. Clooney. I've never really seen ER, and the only recent things I've noticed him in are those Ocean's 19 films."

"Which you would never watch!" She abruptly interjected.

He tried to look affronted, "Why do you believe that?"

"You'd figure everything out practically before the movie even started, that's why I'm never taking you to see any crime movies."

"You're taking me to see movies?"

She paused, back tracking her thoughts to check if she did indeed offer that. Deciding that she either was misinterpreted or Jane was playing games with her she moved on, "So, who's yours?"

"Ah, Brad Pitt?" He offered, not quite clear where she was trying to get him to go with this conversation. Besides, he figured if he dithered long enough, she'd keep going and he'd get another rare insight into what or who Lisbon was attracted to.

"Ergh!" She groaned her face cringed in disgust. "Ew. No. He's too ... pretty. And well-dressed all the time. It's like he can't go anywhere without a mirror. Even when he's trying to be scruffy it's still … made up. No. Not Brad Pitt."

She was rambling and he found it incredibly cute. She waved the last half of her chocolate bar as emphasis too. An image flashed across his brain, them at another time, him riling her up, she using another stick of food as a baton, him surprising her by biting some off, and while she remained stock-still, kissing her. He blinked steadily; moving the thoughts, emotions and images that accompanied that line of thought far away from the present. He had Lisbon attractions to uncover.

"Oh!" her eyes suddenly lit up, "Jason Statham." She nodded her head definitively after that. Her eyes tracking back to the fire, a smile graced her face.

"Jason Statham?" He inquired. He wasn't familiar with the name.

"Big. Muscle-y, all those white wife-beater shirts, gruff." She refused to look at Jane and she couldn't believe they were actually having this conversation. Not that she wanted it to stop; she was having too much fun.

Jane frowned, thankful Lisbon couldn't see him. She liked gruff men? How was that even possible? He had always thought she'd be interested in the cultured, light-hearted, humorous men who would satiate her desire for word-play.

"What films has he been in? Perhaps I've seen him in something."

"I doubt it Jane." She replied.

"Why?" Oh no, he sounded indignant, even to himself.

She laughed a little, "You don't watch his films for the plot."

"Well, what do you watch them for?" He pressed.

She quirked an eyebrow at him, surprised he hadn't picked up on this.

"Oh." He added, quietly. She watched _for_ him… He fought to keep the scowl of his face.

"Okay Jane, since you seem to be having trouble giving me a guy, what about women you like?" She finally asked, after carefully watching his face for signs of some emotion.

"Uma Thurman." He replied. Not even having to think about it.

Lisbon's eyebrow crunched together. As if she were thinking.

"Come now my dear, you have to know who Uma Thurman is."

Lisbon's brain was scowling; of course Jane would be attracted to the willowy, lithe, blond woman. What man wasn't? Why was she 'blessed' with shortness, darkness and petiteness? Couldn't she once have been given one of the three 'male' desires? Blond, tall, or thin; not that she wasn't athletic, but she was short, so you couldn't really see it that much. Stupid Van Pelt, being tall. A little envy between friends was permissible.

"Oh yeah, Pulp Fiction," she said, pretending she'd only been trying to place the woman. "Good movie." She added for effect.

Silence fell in the lobby for a few moments, until Jane spoke, "What about you Lisbon, who's you girl-crush?" He mimicked her tone perfectly.

"Audrey Tatou. Lauren Bacall, either Hepburn, Jane Russell."

Apparently she thought about this a lot, Jane decided. There was no hesitation in her answer. Quirky, strong women who were elegant, classy and could hold their own against the men in their lives (films). He also noticed that the women, for the most part reflected Lisbon's looks, although they were probably taller than she was. But Jane loved that she was petite, it was misleading, and he was after all the master of misdirection.

He watched her for a moment and realized she'd disappeared into another film or television memory. "Who are you thinking about now?"

"Jane." She replied with a throaty sigh.

She was thinking about him? No, that didn't sound like something Lisbon would admit to at all. He was just about to check her pupils to make sure she hadn't been doused with some illegal drugs when he caught himself. He couldn't let his imagination run away without injecting some reality into the situation. She obviously didn't mean him, because Lisbon, even if she were thinking about him would never say that to his face. She must be thinking of that Russell woman again. She had to be, right? "Jane Russell again?" He asked.

"What?" She looked at him this time, "No, _Jayne_." She stressed, he quite obviously was still stumped and then she added "Oh and Mal." She honest to god hummed.

Jane was completely lost. What was she talking about?

"You know. Hero of Canton? The Alliance? Firefly? Serenity? Anything? I am a leaf on the wind?" She was looking at him like he needed to go check his brain was still situated in his skull. "Oh Jane. You're completely missing out on a whole sub-culture here." She shook her head, a little more incredulously than sadly. "That's almost as bad as not knowing who Ripley is."

"Aha! I know that one."

"Great Jane. She's only, practically, the first female kick ass alien fighter in recent years." Lisbon lifted her hands up in exasperation. But the sarcasm in her voice took away any real bite.

"So what's this Firefly Canton Leaf Hero thing about?" He looked genuinely interested but Lisbon didn't want to explain, she liked having another Jayne all to herself.

"Another time Jane."

"Do you promise?"

She only smiled before rising and walking back to her hotel room. Jane stayed in the lobby a while longer, contemplating the things he'd learned about Lisbon. Apparently she only liked brawny, big, stupid men who probably loved their weapons and wouldn't know an intelligent thing if it walked up to them and introduced itself. He scowled, why couldn't she have said she'd liked a nice dresser, with a little bit of quirky intelligence and a penchant for showing off? Like that nice North-English man on the television who saved the earth every Christmas, mostly in London. The one who's Blue Box reminded him of his couch?

The next morning Lisbon woke Van Pelt up early to do a quick recreational shop before the boys were ready to leave. They found a little alternative shop in one of the smaller arcades. Van Pelt was having fun; Lisbon had decided they needed to commemorate their survival of Coldhand Corner. Cho especially, Van Pelt had instinctively understood what Lisbon was trying to do. The case had been particularly difficult. Not to mention the awkward racial undercurrents that Cho had endured rather patiently, Grace knew if the town had had a hatred of redheads she would have started shooting people by the second day – CBI Agent or not.

Lisbon was finding something for Jane, Cho and Van Pelt and Van Pelt was looking for a gift for Rigsby and Lisbon. Suddenly she found the perfect thing for Rigsby. It was chocolates; they were all in the shape of vegetables and fruits. She grabbed them up and went in search for something for Lisbon.

Grace noticed Lisbon was off in the back somewhere, looking at the small collection of trivial t-shirts, mainly those "My parents went to Morocco and all they brought me back was this T-Shirt" variety. She heard a distinctly Lisbon-shaped giggle. But resisted going over, she'd find out later.

Once they had gotten the boys their gifts, they realized that there wasn't anything in the shop that intrigued either woman. They looked at one another with an indifferent eye, then they shrugged. They didn't need gifts from each other; it had been a pleasant time shopping anyway. A little girl-time was gift enough. But then the owner, a sweet elderly lady came out, she just got some scarves in from one of the bigger cities. They were beautiful, Van Pelt picked out a green one for Lisbon and Lisbon got out a placid blue scarf for Van Pelt. They paid for everything and wrapped their 'survivor' scarves around their necks haphazardly, before walking back down to the hotel.

"Did you want to wrap them up?" Grace asked as they approached the hotel and saw Rigsby and Cho loading up the second car.

"No. I reckon just give them to 'em, they won't care. Maybe Jane, but whatever, he's just lucky I remembered to get him something." Lisbon's voice was teasing.

"Rigsby!" Grace called out, "I got you something." At his startled look she quickly amended her statement, "I mean _we_ got you something." She held out the paper bag.

"For surviving Coldhand Corner." Lisbon added, passing her own bundle over to Cho. It was quite a cold day, and none of them were as used to the cold as they should be; too acclimatized to California. Cho unfolded his 'gift', it was a shirt. Not even one of his usual button-down ones either, it was an actual t-shirt. Van Pelt wondered idly if Cho even owned any shirts of that variety. Kimball Cho looked at the cut of the shirt, it was exactly his size, he read the font. His lips quirked into a smile.

"Thanks Boss." He said genuinely.

"Show me!" Van Pelt cried, "Lisbon wouldn't let me see earlier." She and Rigsby leaned over when Cho turned the shirt toward them.

_Oh I get it. Like humor, only different…_

The white words scrawled their message across the blue of the shirt.

It took Rigsby a minute, it was not his usual style of humor, but he appreciated how appropriate it was for Lisbon to have given that gift Cho. It was almost perfect for them.

"Beautiful scarves ladies." Jane intoned as he exited the hotel with their bags. Apparently the men had been packing up the cars while they were out shopping. Lisbon and Van Pelt had already packed their bags before going shopping so there were no privacy issues on that front.

"Thank you, Lisbon gave it to me."

"It looks wonderful on you Van Pelt." Jane remarked, his voice lending itself to suave. Cho gave Rigsby a significant look.

"Um, yeah, Van Pelt, really pretty." But of course saying anything complimentary after Jane sounded like you just lost thirty points of I.Q. Rigsby inwardly cringed, Cho – if he were one for outwardly displays of sarcastic movement – would have rolled his eyes and Van Pelt stifled a blush.

"Yours too, Lisbon." Jane said, eyeing the deep, forest green scarf adorning Lisbon's neck. To most it would sound like an afterthought, him complimenting Lisbon in such a way. But truly, he was more interesting the paper bag she was nursing at the crook of her arm.

"This is for you Jane, a kind of 'we survived Coldhand Corner' gift." She smirked, willing him to understand this was about Cho.

He knew immediately what she meant, if the way Cho was reverently holding onto that shirt meant anything.

"It's not wrapped, but you know…" She trailed off, as the team shuffled forward to try to see what Lisbon and Van Pelt's shopping trip had revealed.

He opened the bag, peering into it; all he could see was red, yellow and orange. It looked like whatever it was; was made of wool. He had no idea what she could have given him. It was a rather pleasant feeling; he so rarely got anything surprising in a good way. He picked the object up, definitely wool. It was folded, so he let it shake loose a little. It was colored in three sections, yellow at the peak, an orange band around the center or middle and long red flaps – he supposed – at the bottom, but only on two sides. There was also an oddly mixed colored bobble at the top. Ah, it's a hat! But it wasn't that cold. And they lived in California, why would Lisbon be buying him a woolen hat?

She must have seen his expression because she said, "I saw it, and all I could think was: Jane."

It made him wonder who exactly she thought he was, because it wasn't something he would usually wear. Not even in the cold. He threw her an amused grin.

She smiled mysteriously back. She wasn't going to explain this one.

However, for the unveiling of the gift, the team had not been able to see the actual hat. Van Pelt stifled a gasp when she finally saw it, held in Jane's wondering hands.

Cho instantly recognized where the hat had come from, he too grinned.

Rigsby sadly had jumped on that particular bandwagon late, and as of yet had not had the pleasure of watching the series, only the movie had entered his realm of experience. Of which, sadly, The Hat had not made an appearance.

Lisbon quickly turned and began to push a gaping Van Pelt into the car, "Don't you think it reminds you of Jayne?" She asked them, knowing full well Jane didn't know who Jayne was. Van Pelt finally got into the car. Lisbon didn't want Jane to know where it had come from just yet; she was saving that up for another day.

Van Pelt was struggling with sanity; Jane had just put the hat _on_. She couldn't even make sentences form in her brain. All she could see and think was Jane & Jayne.

Cho got into the driver's seat and Rigsby got in the back. Once Rigsby was in the car, he leaned forward, trying to break Van Pelt's gaze away from Jane, it was beginning to make him uncomfortable – the way she was looking at him like he was the best health food she'd ever seen.

"Chocolate-shaped Zucchini?" He asked her, putting his hand through the gap of the two front seats. When Lisbon looked at him oddly, he said, "Uh, I mean, Zucchini-shaped Chocolate? You want one too Boss?"

Lisbon nodded taking the Zucchini for a still frozen Van Pelt and a Chocolate Pumpkin for herself. More chocolate that way.

Cho drove the car away, glancing into the review mirror; Jane was wearing The Hat, with his three-piece suit, oddly, it fit.

Jane was wondering just what was so special about this type of hat. Why had Lisbon thought to buy it for him, why was Van Pelt so intrigued by it, and why did Cho seem to understand their reasons? Lisbon had gone back inside to make sure all the payment details were covered, it was one quirk of hers, even when she told one of the team to pay; she just couldn't relax until she had double-checked for herself.

A mischievous thought entered his mind. He quickly scuttled around the car and got into the driver's seat. He wondered how forcefully Lisbon would react. She loved to drive, almost had to be the one driving.

When Lisbon came back out, she couldn't see Jane, she walked to passenger side front seat and found out why. He was already buckled into the driver's seat raring to go. But he was still wearing the hat. She grinned again. She got into the passenger side.

Jane looked astonished, before he quickly schooled his features into nonchalance.

"I can drive?" He questioned.

"As long as you keep the hat on." She replied; reaching a hand up to tweak the closest red ear-flap.

"This isn't some weird fetish of yours, is it?" He asked warily.

"Would it matter? You want to drive; you have to wear the hat." She said strongly.

He nodded accordingly and began the drive home.

She hadn't actually slept that much last night. After she'd gone back to her hotel room, she managed about an hour before waking up again. So she'd only gotten one hour of sleep for the whole night. It probably wasn't a good idea for her to be driving anyway, not that Jane knew that.

She settled into the seat, turning her body slightly so she could admire Jane in Jayne's Hat. It was a beautiful sight; she'd probably remember Coldhand Corner with good memories now. Possibly even good enough memories to wipe out Jane's attraction to Uma. Possibly. Maybe. Oh who cared, Jane was looking delightful in that hat, that's all that mattered, and now she has about four hours of driving to appreciate it.

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_See I told you it was different._

_Please review and let me know how you interpreted my strangeness :)_

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